Page 44 of Fearless
Or making Noah responsible for the baby growing inside her.
The layover was more exhausting than it was restful. She stretched out along a row of empty seats and tried again to sleep, but her stomach wouldn’t settle and she had no money even for crackers. By the time she reached the States, she’d been holding onto an airsick bag for half a day. The black circles were back under her eyes. The rest of her looked green, but at least she hadn’t vomited. She saved those awful heaving attempts for that ugly moment when she staggered out of the interior of the Reagan National airport and into the lobby where Ethen was waiting amongst the crowd. Her stomach rolled at the thinness of his smile. His eyes said ‘just wait until I get you alone’ and she barely made it to the nearest garbage can before her guts rebelled.
Ethen turned away, every stiff line of his body unhappy with the scene she’d made. As if she weren’t already in enough trouble; as if he didn’t already have a list of things to make her pay for.
As if she could help it, she thought bitterly, spitting the bile from her mouth and accepting the napkin some sweet old lady offered her, as she patted her back and stroked her hair and murmured, “It’s all right, dear. That turbulence is awful, isn’t it? Well, you’re on the ground now, so things are bound to be better soon, won’t they?”
Arms braced on the trashcan rim, she hung her head until she was sure her stomach was done.
“Disgusting,” was all Ethen said once she reached his side. “Remind me again why I wanted you back.”
Some months ago, a comment like that would have filled her with guilt and fear. Funny how long flights and too little sleep could change things. Right now, it only pricked her temper.
“I’m pregnant,” she told, making almost no effort at all to hide her annoyance. “And yeah, it’s yours.”
She stared at him, almost daring him to question that. His smile even thinner than before, Ethen looked away first. Neither of them spoke again. When he turned away, she followed him, out of the airport, through to the second floor of the terminal parking garage and away from the bustling crowd. Her irritation, more at herself now than at him, seemed only to grow with every step. Her inability to hide that irritation was growing too, keeping an even pace, and that annoyed her more. She was usually pretty good at hiding her feelings. What was wrong with her now?
She was back in D.C., said the practical voice in her head.
When they reached his car, Ethen opened the rear driver’s side door for her and waited for her to take her place. Neither Puppy-girl nor Pony-girl were present. She was going to be in the car with him for the duration of this ride, alone.
“I’ll make some phone calls,” he said, looking everywhere but at her. “I’ll have it sorted out by Friday. In the meantime, I hope you’ve given some thought to how you want to fix the real situation.”
Warning tickled at the back of Kitty’s neck as she followed his gaze up the nearest support column to the security camera tucked into the shadows, and then half a row further away, to the group of men and women in business suits, laughing and talking on their way to their own vehicle. He was checking to see how many people were around.
“I’m waiting,” he said and she snapped back to find him watching her again. His eyes hooded; his face, masked and cold.
He wouldn’t hurt her while there was a chance of witnesses. That, however, changed the moment she got into his car.
What was she doing? She was back in D.C. now and could call Hadlee at any point. She didn’t have to pander to Ethen’s dominance anymore; she didn’t have to pretend. To be perfectly honest, she couldn’t think of a single thing of hers that he still had that she wanted badly enough to risk getting into his car. And yet, that moment of defiance she had plotted out in her head for when she at last could lock eyes with Ethen and tell him to his face what a piece of shit ‘dom’ he was, that she’d been using him for a change, and that he had nothing she wanted anymore—that defiance was far, far easier to imagine than it was to initiate now that she was standing in front of him.
“Get in,” he ordered.
Kitty climbed into the backseat, pulling her foot in quickly in case he decided to make that first pre-emptive strike a hobbling one.
Smirking, Ethen shut her door.
I’m a good girl. Kitty closed her eyes, rubbing her damp palms against her jeans. I’m safe. Except she wasn’t. I’m loved. Not in this car. I don’t have to be afraid of anything. Opening her eyes again, she watched Ethen get in behind the steering wheel. The car came to life at the push of a button. He smiled at her in the rearview mirror, but his eyes offered neither mirth nor friendship.
“I should think you would thank me for coming all the way out here in the middle of the night to collect you.”
“Thank you.” Her tone was as flat as his stare. She couldn’t believe she was sitting here; she felt like such an idiot.
“A few months out of my care and you’ve already forgotten how a proper apology should go. I can see you’ll need some re-educating.”
The déjà vu was strong. The last time she’d been in this car, catching glances from him in that mirror, she’d been scared shitless and he’d been angry. Ethen was doing his part, but something had changed in Kitty. Her chest was every bit as tight as back then, but not with fear this time. Well, not a lot anyway, but what fear there was wasn’t overwhelming. Instead of feeding into her panic, all she could feel was the dull throb of anger building up under the back of her skull.
“That’s all right,” Ethen promised as he backed out of the stall and headed for the nearest exit ramp. “I have nothing else to do with my time. We can go all night, if that’s what it takes.”
Was she really going to let him drive her back out to the isolation of his country house where he’d beat and raped her so brutally? And how fucked up in the head did she have to be to actually excuse him for that? She’d huddled on the kitchen floor, naked, with nothing but a litter box, barely able to walk even a few feet to steal her own cellphone off the kitchen counter, and she’d excused him.
What the hell was she doing?
Kitty glared at the back of his head, tightly clenched fingers squeezing tighter and tighter, until she could feel the pain radiating out of her whitening knuckles. The urge to strangle him with his own seatbelt was at once the most terrifying and exhilarating plan she’d ever hatched, and it was all she could see when she looked at him.
“Don’t,” he softly warned, his own eyes darkening in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. Not after all I’ve done for you.”
Drop your gaze. Look at your hands, your feet, anything but him. That old fear was right there, as fresh and vibrant as ever, and yet what came pouring out of her mouth was an equally soft and accusing, “You mean like stealing my money and leaving me with nothing?”
